Part 28 (1/2)

Iredale pulled himself together.

”No, I think not. The storm has pa.s.sed, the rain is ceasing. I had better hurry back home. It will come back on us--the storm, I mean.”

The girl looked out of the window.

”Yes, I think it will. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Hervey went over to see you this afternoon.”

Iredale's eyes turned sharply upon the girl.

”Ah, yes, I will go at once. I will call to-morrow and see Mrs.

Malling. Good-bye.”

He turned away and abruptly left the room. Prudence looked after him.

She saw him pa.s.s out; she saw him go out by the front door and hurry down the little path which bisected the front garden. She saw him go round to the stables, and he seemed not to heed the rain which was still falling lightly. But it was not until she saw him riding away down the trail that she realized the suddenness of his departure and the fact that he hadn't even attempted to kiss her.

Iredale's horse received little consideration at its master's hands on that homeward journey. The animal was ridden almost at racing pace over the long ten miles of country. And all the way home the words the girl had spoken were running in his ears with maddening insistence--

”And when we find the author of those words we find his murderer.”

She had virtually accused him of murder. For he alone was the author of those words in the paper. Truly his sins were finding him out.

CHAPTER XIII

BLACKMAIL

As Hervey entered the valley of the ranch he listened for the warning owl cries. To-day, however, there were none. He smiled to himself as he noted the fact, for he knew their origin; he knew their object. He understood that these cries were the alarm of sentries stationed at certain points to warn those at the ranch of the approach of strangers. He knew, too, that they were used as signals for other things. And he admired the ingenuity of Iredale in thus turning the natural features of the valley to his own uses. Rain was beginning to fall in great drops, and the thunder of the rising storm had already made itself heard. He urged his horse forward.

Few men can embark on a mission of hazard or roguery without some feelings of trepidation. And Hervey was no exception to the rule. He experienced a feeling of pleasurable excitement and antic.i.p.ation.

There was sufficient uncertainty in his mission to make him think hard and review his powers of attack with great regard for detail. There must be no loophole of escape for his victim.

On the whole he was well satisfied. But he was not unprepared for failure. During his acquaintance with Iredale he had learned that the master of Lonely Ranch was not easily trifled with, neither was he the man to accept a tight situation without making a hot fight for it. It was just these things which gave Hervey the gentle qualms of excitement as he meditated upon the object of his journey. He thought of the large sums of money he had borrowed from this man, and the ease with which they had been obtained. He remembered the kindly ways and gentle manner of this reserved man, and somehow he could not get away from the thought of the velvet glove.

But even as he thought of it he laughed. There was no getting away from the facts he possessed, and if it came to anything in the shape of physical resistance, well, he was not unprepared. There was a comfortable feeling about the heavy jolt of the six-chambered ”lawyer”

in his pocket.

The valley seemed much more lonely than usual. The horrid screeching of the watchful sentries would almost have been welcome to him. The forest was so dark and still. Even the falling raindrops and the deep rolling thunder had no power to give the place any suggestion of life.

There was a mournful tone over everything that caused the rider to glance about him furtively, and wish for a gleam of the prairie sunlight.

At length he drew up at the house. There was no one about. A few cattle were calmly reposing in the corrals. There was not even the sharp bark of a dog to announce his arrival. As Hervey drew up he looked to see Iredale come to the door, for he knew the rancher had returned from his wanderings; but the front door remained shut, and, although the window of the sitting-room was wide open, there was no sign of any occupant within the room. He dismounted and stood thinking for a moment. Then he raised his voice and called to Chintz.

His summons was repeated before the man's ferret face appeared round a corner of the building. The little fellow advanced with no show of alacrity. Iredale had told him nothing about any expected visitor. He was not quite sure what to do.

By dint of many questions and replies, which took the form of nods and shakes of the head on the part of Chintz, Hervey learnt that Iredale had gone over to Loon d.y.k.e, but that he would be back to supper.

”Then I'll wait for him,” he said decidedly. ”You can take my horse.

I'll go inside.”